“Well, one thing and another. You know my Mary’s to be married Thanksgiving Day, and John Turner joins hands with her in begging me to go to Scituate along with them and set her off in her housekeeping. You know, being the only girl, she never’s quite let go of mammy’s apron string; and for that matter, I’m as loath to part with her as ever she can be with me.” “Then, why not go?” asked Sarah sympathetically. “I’m sure the change will be good for you, and you’ve had a mort of work and worry lately.” “Yes, I know, but--well, I’ll tell you, Sally. I don’t want to go away and leave Jonathan and the boys with nobody to do for them.” “Why, there’s Jill and your Indian woman Quoy.” “Yes, Quoy knows all about the house, and can get the meals and all that as well if I was away as if I was here; but Gillian”-- “Why--yes, I suppose I know what you mean, ’Cretia. You’d be just as well content if Gillian wasn’t here, eh?” “Full as well,” replied Lucretia with emphasis, and gazed full in her sister’s face. Then both turned and looked at the girl who, crying, “Button, button, who’s got the button?” was daintily trying to pry open the stalwart fist of Josias Standish, while Mary Dingley looked uneasily on. “Yes,” said Sarah softly, as if answering some unspoken appeal. “And you don’t want to take her?” “Take her, no! I believe Mary wouldn’t be married at all if it was to carry that girl along with her.” “Well, ’Cretia, I’ll take her, for a while at least. You know the Elder is with us more than he is at Plymouth, and I’ll lay she won’t carry on lightly under his eyes. I never knew any man like Father Brewster in my life! He’d make the Old Boy behave himself, I believe, and never say a hard word to him neither; and my boys are but boys, and I’ll risk Love.” “Oh, it isn’t Jonathan I’m afraid of,” said Jonathan’s wife quickly. “But”-- “Oh, don’t you say a word,” interrupted Sarah with a little laugh. “I know all about it, and it’s just as it should be; but it would be main lonesome for a young maid here with none but men for company, and I’ll ask her to come and make me a visit.” “Will you? Now that’s comfortable of you, Sally, right comfortable and friendly,” replied Lucretia, rising to attend her summons, but with a face so relieved from care and worry that Jonathan, meeting her, whispered softly,-- “I’d liever look at thee than any of the young lasses, sweetheart.” CHAPTER XXVII. DONNA MARIA DE LOS DOLORES.